


wild heart

by wolfsupremacist



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, Reality-Writing book, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsupremacist/pseuds/wolfsupremacist
Summary: junmyeon finds a strange journal and writes a whirlwind into his life.





	wild heart

6.4

As they pass the signs for Virginia Beach, he realizes something terrible: they still have about 100 miles to go.

“Shut up and drink your ginger ale,” Sehun says, hands lazy on the wheel. “And _stay off your fucking phone_.”

Junmyeon clicks the power button, the screen going black on his absent musings for the next novel. Sehun is right: staring at screens always aggravates his motion sickness.

“It’s _summer vacation_ ,” Sehun says. “You don’t have to do any writing. For three whole months, basically.”

“I should start outlining at the very least,” Junmyeon says. “Otherwise Minseok is gonna kill us. The deadline is--.”

“If you say another word about deadlines, I’m gonna throw you out of the car,” Sehun says.

“Please do,” Junmyeon says. “I think I’m gonna die.”

“Hush,” Sehun says. “Drink your ginger ale.”

Junmyeon sighs, dutifully uncaps his bottle of Canada Dry, and takes a long sip.

“There you go, baby,” Sehun says.

“Go to hell,” Junmyeon replies.

 

☵

 

The cottage in Nags Head is on the beach, right around the corner from the outlets, and is, on the whole, perfect for he and Sehun. It was recently renovated apparently, with new linens and couches, the decor all clean white and oak. He makes a mental note to thank Sehun’s parents for letting them use it, especially for such a long time.

“We’re a mile from the Pier,” Sehun says, hauling their bags into the house. “That’ll be pretty. We can go tomorrow maybe.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “That sounds good. Today, I just wanna get settled, stock up on some food, and--”

“Relax,” Sehun finishes.

“Exactly.”

Sehun smiles, lifts up a bag that Junmyeon knows is heavy: he crammed a dozen bottles of wine inside, padded with beach towels.

“Planning on drinking a lot this summer?” Sehun asks.

“You know me,” Junmyeon says. “Gotta have a glass of red every day.”

“For the antioxidants,” Sehun nods.

“For the antioxidants,” Junmyeon agrees.

They work to the music blasting from Sehun’s phone, unloading the rest of the car before picking their rooms.

“Food Lion down the street,” Sehun says. “Wanna go get shit for tacos?”

“Mm,” Junmyeon says. “Fish.”

“Yes,” Sehun hisses. “Here, real quick, though.”

He uncorks a bottle of white wine deftly, a label that Junmyeon doesn’t recognize as one he brought. He loves Sehun very, very much.

Sehun pours them both a heavy splash into coffee mugs before handing Junmyeon one.

“Here,” Sehun says, handing him one of the mugs before raising his own. “To relaxation and inspiration.”

“To relaxation and inspiration,” Junmyeon repeats.

They clink the sides of their mugs together, a resounding and satisfying sound, before they knock the wine back.

“Ah,” Sehun says, licking his lips. “Okay, come on, get your shoes back on. Daddy’s hungry.”

 

☵

 

They eat off paper plates and leave the pans to soak before walking the short distance to the beach access, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand.

“How many words did you do last month?” Junmyeon asks, tearing the foil from the bottle.

“No talk about work,” Sehun says.

“I just wanna know if I’m falling behind,” Junmyeon says.

“You’re not falling behind,” Sehun says. “You’re doing fine.”

Junmyeon stews in the silence, the waves crashing in front of them. The sun is just beginning to set as he pops the cork out of the stubborn bottle.

“I did fifty,” Sehun finally admits.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Junmyeon says sullenly.

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to other people,” Sehun says. “Your last story sold better than mine.”

Junmyeon watches the numbers enough to know that Sehun’s telling the truth: Junmyeon _had_ outsold him. The last time and the four times before that, ever since Sehun got picked up by the same agent, publishing through the same relatively popular but still distinctly independent (and niche) house. But the margins are getting slimmer, and Sehun’s catching up to him. Junmyeon’s numbers are holding steady, but Sehun’s are growing...rapidly.

It’s silly, of course. They’re friends, becoming best friends with all the time they spend together in the writers room and outside the writers room combined. But Junmyeon can’t help but be a little jealous.

“You just have to get out of your own head,” Sehun advises. “Get a little perspective. You’re the best smut writer I fuckin’ know, but you’re also fucking insane.”

Junmyeon kicks sand absently as he fills up a solo cup for Sehun.

“Inspiration is fickle,” Sehun says sagely as he takes his wine. “We have to find her and keep her for as long as we can.”

“We should have just gone to Fire Island,” Junmyeon says. “Or a fucking bar. Somewhere to get dick.”

“That’s so cliche,” Sehun chides. “You don’t need a fuck. You need _nature._ ”

“Nature is going to help me write about filthy, nasty, sweaty, primal, face down, ass up, no talking, no _names,_ shit-you-don’t-talk-about-to-even-your-closest-friends sex?” Junmyeon asks.

“God, stop,” Sehun says, fanning himself. “You’re gonna get me hot."

“I fucking hate you,” Junmyeon says.

“You love me,” Sehun says.

“Yeah, I guess,” Junmyeon says.

Sehun wraps an arm around Junmyeon’s body, hugs him close. The breeze is cool and salted, and Junmyeon closes his eyes against it, listening to the waves go in and go right back out, Sehun’s head resting on his shoulder.

“This is gonna be good for us,” Sehun whispers.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, knowing in his heart of hearts that Sehun is right. He needed a vacation.

 

* * *

 

 

6.5

When Junmyeon wakes the next morning, he wakes to the smell of bacon and coffee, which is his second favorite way to wake.

“Hey,” Sehun says, back to Junmyeon as he pokes at the bacon for a moment before turning. “Breakfast burritos good with you?”

“Fuck yes,” Junmyeon says, head pounding. He should know better by now: he can’t keep up with Sehun when it comes to white wine.  

“Hungover?” Sehun asks.

“A little,” Junmyeon says.

“Same,” Sehun says. “Advil’s right there.”

He points to the little bottle on the counter, surrounded by all the grocery shit they’ve yet to put away. Junmyeon shakes out three from the container, grabs a bottle of water, and swallows the pills down with a gulp.

“Bacon?” Sehun asks, laying the cheesy eggs into the tortilla.

“Yes, please,” Junmyeon says.

“Hot sauce?” Sehun asks.

“Yes, please,” Junmyeon says.

Sehun smiles, and only a couple minutes later, he joins Junmyeon at the counter with coffee, plates full in front of them.

“I love you,” Junmyeon says before taking a huge bite of his burrito. “Oh, fuck, I really love you.”

“The way to a man’s heart is his prostate, but the stomach works too,” Sehun says.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Junmyeon says. “You have a plan on what you wanna do today, tour guide Barbie?”

“There’s a lighthouse about ten minutes from here,” Sehun says.

“That could be cool,” Junmyeon says. “You wanna go to the top?”

“Absolutely I do,” Sehun says. “Think of the view.”

“The _inspiration,_ ” Junmyeon mocks.

“Precisely,” Sehun says. “After that, we can get day drunk at the beach, sober up after lunch, nap maybe, do dinner out someplace, and then maybe, like...I don’t know, mini-golf?”

“Pirate themed mini-golf,” Junmyeon says.

“There’s a mermaid one closer,” Sehun says.

“Ugh, fine,” Junmyeon gripes.

“You’re a crotchety old bitch sometimes,” Sehun says.

“Correct,” Junmyeon says, taking another giant bite of his burrito. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Multiple times,” Sehun says. “But that’s because I’m perfect, and you are desperate for affection.”

 

☵

 

The lighthouse is black and white striped, striking against the bright blue sky. It is imposing in the distance as they approach in Sehun’s car, and it only becomes more imposing as they walk towards it.

“Pretty,” Junmyeon says, staring up at it.

“Right?” Sehun says.

They climb the 214 steps to the top of the brick lighthouse, gazing out over the island. Junmyeon can see for miles and miles. It’s stupid, it’s _ridiculous_ , but something like awe, like hope creeps up in his heart and sticks there like glue.

“Good?” Sehun says.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, blinking back tears. “Really good.”

 

☵

 

“What are you gonna do for your next one?” Junmyeon asks.

Sehun’s hands are behind his head as he lays on the sand, his ugly sun hat covering his face. It muffles his voice.

“ _No work_ ,” Sehun says.

“I’m just wondering,” Junmyeon says, taking a sip of his juice box full of rosé. “I won’t copy you.”

Sehun angrily whips off his sun hat before throwing it at Junmyeon.

“Fuck you,” Sehun says. “Do you really think I’m so insecure? Do you really think I think so little of you?”

“I dunno,” Junmyeon shrugs.

“You’re so dumb,” Sehun says. “Can’t you turn your brain off for a second?”

“No,” Junmyeon smiles, holding Sehun’s sun hat out for him to take.

Sehun grumbles as he takes it back, laying it back over his face.

“I’m gonna do something different, I think,” Sehun says. “Main character gets introduced to BDSM, maybe. I dunno, I’m still throwing around ideas.”

“That could be fun,” Junmyeon says. “But you don’t want it...”

“ _50 Shades_ ,” Sehun says. “Yeah, that’s the worry. More consent, less abuse, more romance...and I was thinking it would be a sub trying to introduce a top to the world. Try to get them to find their dom side.”

“Interesting spin,” Junmyeon says. “Could be good.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking, just gotta be careful with it,” Sehun says. “What about you? You got any ideas yet?”

Junmyeon thinks back to the lighthouse: sun and sky and sea. There’s something there for him. He just doesn’t know what yet.  

“No clue,” Junmyeon says, digging his toes in the sand.

“We’ve only been here a day,” Sehun says. “It’ll come to you.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, looking out at the water. “I hope.”

 

☵

 

“Prep your ass, bitch,” Junmyeon says, twirling his little putter around like a sword. “Otherwise I’m gonna go in raw.”

“You have the worst trash talk,” Sehun says. “Putt, you motherfucker.”

Junmyeon drops his ball onto the green, drags it around with his putter until it’s just where he wants it.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna beg for mercy?” Junmyeon says. “Last chance.”

“I think I’ll survive without it,” Sehun says.  

Junmyeon stretches it out, really goes for broke with the theatrics of it all. He considers lowering himself to the ground and lining up his shot that way, but eventually, Sehun huffs out a labored breath, so Junmyeon decides to cut the shit and just play. There’s a little bridge over a river, but on the whole, it doesn’t look too hard.

He wheels back and...knocks his little blue ball right into the water, watching in horror as it floats down the river.

Mouth agape, Junmyeon looks back at Sehun who immediately bursts into laughter.

“Yeah,” Sehun says, wiping a tear from his eye, “I’ll definitely survive.”

Junmyeon chases after his ball, just _barely_ grabbing it out of the river before it drifts down to the spot where they signed in, his arm completely soaked by the end of the endeavor.

“You gotta give me a mulligan,” Junmyeon whines, pulling at Sehun’s shirt. “Come on, _mulligan!_ ”

“I thought you were going in raw,” Sehun says, easily sinking his first shot.

Junmyeon hates the Outer Banks.

 

☵

 

He gets a sundae: two scoops of rainbow swirl, one scoop of vanilla, topped with rainbow sprinkles, hot fudge, whipped cream and two cherries.

“Could you get any gayer?” Sehun laughs.

“You know, I don’t think I could,” Junmyeon says.

They walk the mile back to the house, and by the end, he’s finished his sundae, scooping up the dredges from the crevices of the plastic container.

“God, I’m gonna regret that in about twenty minutes,” Sehun says.

“Did you take your Lactaid?” Junmyeon asks.

“No, _Mom_ ,” Sehun says. “I’ll be fine, I’ll just shit my brains out later.”

“ _God_ ,” Junmyeon says, face twisting up. “We have to share a bathroom.”

Sehun just laughs, and the night is quiet besides.

“I’m so tired,” Junmyeon says, walking into the house, stepping out of his shoes.

“Come on then,” Sehun says, “let’s go lay down.”

He leads Sehun into his room, flops inelegantly onto the right side as Sehun lays back on the left. Sehun turns to face him, leaning on his arm.

“Did you have a good day?” Sehun says.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, staring at the ceiling.

“You don’t look happy,” Sehun says.

“I’m fine,” Junmyeon says.

Sehun exhales, slow but jagged.

“What’s wrong?” Sehun asks.

“I’m just tired, I guess,” Junmyeon says. “Long day.”

“Yeah,” Sehun says.

There is silence, but Junmyeon can’t stop thinking, can’t seem to close his eyes and shut it down. He wants to sleep, wants to relax, wants to just _chill the fuck out._

“I’m worried,” Junmyeon says quietly, “that I’ll never write anything good again.”

“You say that every time,” Sehun says back, just as quiet. “And then you always write something good.”

“Good is subjective,” Junmyeon says.

“Do you think my shit’s good?” Sehun asks.

“Yes,” Junmyeon says. “Obviously.”

“Then trust my opinion on your shit,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon sighs.

“Go to sleep,” Sehun smiles, reaching forward and scratching behind Junmyeon’s ear. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

God, Junmyeon fuckin’ hopes so.

 

* * *

 

6.8

Junmyeon tops off Sehun’s coffee, the creamy tan swirling with the black-brown. Sehun immediately grabs it and holds it in his hands as he stares at his little book.

“Ooh, antiques,” Sehun says. “That could be interesting.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “I like all that old shit.”

“There’s, like, _spirits_ there,” Sehun says.

“All _kinds_ of inspiration,” Junmyeon says.

Sehun closes the guide book forcefully.

“You know, I kind of feel like you’re making fun of me here,” Sehun says. “But I don’t care if you are or you aren’t. Because I agree. There is gonna be tons of inspiration there, you’re gonna write a sexy masterpiece, and then I’ll have you eat your bland, tasteless words.”

“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “I believe you.”

“This is why the other writers don’t talk to you,” Sehun says, opening his book back up to the dog-eared page. “You have no whimsy.”

“I’m plenty whimsical!” Junmyeon says. “I came all the way to North Carolina, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but that’s because you have a hard-on for me,” Sehun smiles prettily.

“You’re really fuckin’ lucky you’re cute,” Junmyeon says.

“I know,” Sehun says, grinning. “Go get your wallet, I wanna check this place out before it closes.”

 

☵

 

The antiques mall is a short drive from their cottage, and when Junmyeon walks in, he realizes that maybe Sehun was right: maybe it _was_ a good idea to come here.

“Welcome,” the little old lady sitting behind the cash register says.

“Thank you,” Sehun answers.

“If I can help you find anything,” she says, “just holler.”

“We will,” Sehun says, and smiles are volleyed between them.

Sehun turns to him, grins madly.

“I’m gonna go explore,” Sehun says. “I’ll find you in a little.”

“Kay,” Junmyeon says, and when Sehun walks off, Junmyeon walks off too, just in the opposite direction.

The store is exceptionally clean, Junmyeon notes, which is nice. The only kind of filth he can stand is his own.

There are tables, chairs, desks, and end tables with price tags, and resting atop the tables are wooden crates filled with records, with art prints, with glass bottles and sculptures, countless other knick-knacks littering the place. He trails his fingers over some of them, checks the bottom of some of them. He might get something, he thinks. It’ll be nice to bring something back that already has some memories to it.

Colorful buoys of all shapes and sizes are hung along the wall, and wooden oars are mounted above the arches that lead from one room of the shop to the next.

Junmyeon needlessly ducks under the seashell-decorated wind chimes, absently touches some of the life preservers. He looks around: he and Sehun are the only two in the shop. It’s quiet, quiet in a disconcerting, worrisome way. He shakes himself out of it. He wants to find something cool to take back with him.

After he’s seemingly explored everywhere in the mall, his eyes land on the far corner of the last room, dark and dusty where the rest of the place is spotless. Strange, he thinks. He walks towards it, despite the ominous feeling that sits in his stomach like an ache.

Lying there on a chestnut brown table, a layer of thick dust resting on the blue leather cover, is a an old, old journal. Junmyeon feels like it’s pulling him forward, and his hands grab it without a second thought.

When he opens the cover and he stares at the weathered, yellow pages, warmth floods through him and _fuck_ , the heat is immediate and delicious as it runs its course, from the tips of his fingers and toes to his neck and his chest to where it ends, pooling in his groin.

“Fuck,” he whispers, swallowing down the rise of fire inside him.

“Oh, what’s that you’ve found?”

The voice startles Junmyeon, sends a shock through him like ice cold ocean water. He turns abruptly, tries not to look too frightened when he realizes the voice came from the old woman running the till, now stood right behind him.

She’s slight, even next to someone of his stature. Her hair is waved from the salty air, white and grey. Her eyes are pretty, blue and brown and strange, and when Junmyeon really looks at her, he feels, for some inexplicable reason, like he’s staring at his mother.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says. “Should I not have touched this?”

“No one has picked it up for a very long time,” she says. “It’s the oldest thing in the store.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

“Take it,” she says. “You look like you need it.”

“W-what?” Junmyeon says.

“You look like you need it,” she says kindly. “I found that on the beach a long, long time ago. I think it’s special.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says again. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, but…”

“But nothing,” she says. “Take it.”

He does feel sort of attached to the journal already, the leather supple and soft in his hands, but how much would something so precious cost? An arm and a leg, he wagers.

“How much is it?” he tries.

“For you?” she says, laughing. “For _you_ , it’s free.”

It shocks a laugh out of Junmyeon, but he immediately bites it back: he doesn’t want to offend this nice lady, after all.

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon says. “I have to pay you for it.”

“Do you?” she says. “I didn’t know you ran the store.”

Junmyeon laughs again, and she smiles at him, but she doesn’t relent. Her hands come to rest on his, pushing the book into his hands.

“Are you a writer?” she asks.

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, and it is eerie the way she looks at him, like she can see his heart, the blood vessels curling through him.

“Write something in it,” she says. “Write something beautiful.”

Junmyeon finds himself agreeing, and when she waves he and Sehun off not five minutes later, Junmyeon feels as though he’s finally found what Sehun was telling him to search for.

 

* * *

 

6.10

Junmyeon stuffs the journal in his beach bag, and it comes with him nearly everywhere he goes.

He only writes one word in it at first.

When Sehun walks into the water, he stays back on the beach, sitting in his chair. He takes his nice pen, his favorite pen, the black felt tip that makes him feel professional, and he opens to the first page. He scratches _joy_ very carefully in the dead center of the page.

He looks at it once he’s finished. He can barely even register the handwriting as his own, it’s so clear. _Something beautiful,_ the woman said. What’s more beautiful than joy?

Satisfied, he tucks the journal back into his bag and pops his earbuds in.

 

☵

 

Junmyeon does lots of face masks, ones that Sehun brought from home, infused with all kinds of serums and acids, stored in the refrigerator so it shocks a breath out of him when he peels it out of the foil pack and lays it across his face.

Junmyeon takes baths with bombs and bubble bars from Lush, luxuriating in the pretty scented water, sipping from an oversized wine glass he picked up from Super Wings, listening to Hozier and forgetting about his troubles.

Junmyeon goes with Sehun to the beach almost every day, and he digs his feet in the sand and stares up at the clouds as they pass him by. They wade into the water, jumping through the waves, watching as people surf or try their best.

Junmyeon plays 500 Rummy with Sehun in the evenings, sitting out on the little deck attached to the back of the cottage, sipping rosé and keeping tally on a piece of scratch paper.

Sehun calls it self-care, but to Junmyeon, it’s _joy_.

 

* * *

  

6.13

“Ooh,” Sehun says, glancing over. “Put on some sunblock. You’re gonna get burnt to hell.”

“I tan,” Junmyeon says.

“You tan _after_ you burn,” Sehun says. “Big difference.”

Sehun tosses him the orange bottle, violently bright in the light of the summer sun.

“Put it on,” Sehun says, laying back in the sun, his skin shimmering gold and they’ve only been in the state for a week and a half. Junmyeon hates him.

He rubs the zinc into his skin, over his arm and his chest, but he feels Sehun watching him intently. Eventually, he gives in, turns to face him again.

“Yes?” Junmyeon asks, rubbing a glob of sunscreen onto his face.

"Nothing,” Sehun says, quickly looking away. “You just look happy.”

Junmyeon looks out over the water.

“I guess I am,” Junmyeon says.

 

* * *

 

6.15

 

> _The wind can push and pull just as well as the waves, but there is a reason no one talks about the strength of the air; instead, we talk of the water. We tell tales of the seas swallowing men whole, of the secrets lost to the ocean floor. We speak of danger, of power, of awe when we look upon the water. It will push, and it will pull, and it will drag you under until all you can see is the hope of the sun, the yellow hope, fading, fading, until blue turns to black, and air is a memory -- a friend you once knew --_
> 
> _But it is the perfect way to fall, and he knows it. Love is deep like the ocean, and he will slip to the bottom quickly. He knows this when he sees him for the first time._

The journal forces him to turn the page, and he wonders where those words came from. They feel distant and unfamiliar, as though his hand was guided by someone else. Something about this place, he guesses -- he’s being overwhelmed by the salt, by the fumes of the sunscreen cans that fill the air like fog, like clouds.

Junmyeon looks around, sees the beach beginning to fill with a rainbow of umbrellas at the edge of the shoreline, chairs propped up, legs burrowed into the sand. He looks out at the waves, watches them crash and crash and never tire.

He should really buckle down, start composing something that resemble an outline, something he can look at and say “that’s the idea,” something he can show Minseok as his pitch.

Absently, he stares at the people around him, alternately ghostly pale and leathery tan. There’s something here, he thinks. There is something about the smell of coconut and aloe, about the sounds of laughter and music. It’s no wonder Nicholas Sparks wrote so much about this place -- romance is palpable, thick all around them.

His gaze finally lands on the abandoned lifeguard stand, weathered and water-beaten orange paint sticking out like a sore thumb. The sign, looking long-forgotten, reads “ON DUTY: 10 to 6.”

Junmyeon checks his watch: 10:08. He smiles, jots down his outline:

> _love interest: local, funny, beautiful_
> 
> _concept: whirlwind summer romance_
> 
> _conflict: what happens when the summer dies and the autumn comes?_

He sighs happily. There’s something there, for sure.

 

☵

 

There’s bowls of watermelon and pineapple, different kinds of berries they picked up from the stand down the road. He works on chopping up the cantaloupe as Sehun sits at the counter-top and stares at him, chin in his hands.

“You’ve seemed better lately,” Sehun says, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Found an idea today.”

“Oh!” Sehun says. “Tell me everything!”

“It’s still very vague…” he says. “There’s barely anything to tell.”

“You’re so secretive,” Sehun sneers.

“It’s not being secretive,” Junmyeon says. “It’s having nothing to tell.”

“Sure, sure,” Sehun says. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, and Sehun responds by pinching him on the ear.

“Get some manners, young man,” Sehun says.

“Fuck you,” Junmyeon says.

“Testy, testy,” Sehun says. “Lemme see.”

He grabs for the journal, lying there on the counter-top, and Junmyeon quickly sets the knife down, tries to make a play for it of his own, but Sehun is too fast and besides, Junmyeon’s fingers are sticky from the juice and he doesn’t wanna ruin the journal.

“This shit is still pristine,” Sehun says, holding it gently. “How old did the lady say it was?”

“She didn’t give any specifics,” Junmyeon says. “Just that she found it and that it’s very old.”

Sehun sighs dreamily, flips open the cover, and starts reading all the stuff Junmyeon’s been scribbling, stream of consciousness. It’s a strange feeling, to watch someone read your own writing, so Junmyeon picks his knife back up, busying himself with the cantaloupe once more as Sehun’s eyes glaze over the pages.

“Ooh,” Sehun says. “Kinda purple. Artsy-fartsy shit.”

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says. “I don’t know if that gels with the concept.”

“Something lighter?” Sehun says.

“I think that would make more sense,” Junmyeon says. “What do you think?”

“I dunno,” Sehun says. “I like the purple stuff. I like when you pontificate about the ocean for two hundred words.”

“Do _readers_?” Junmyeon asks. “Because, for the most part, I think they’re interested in the dick.”

“Aren’t we all?” Sehun says happily.

“I hate you,” Junmyeon says.

“You _love_ me,” Sehun says, and maybe it’s true, but Junmyeon won’t admit it.

 

* * *

 

6.17

He picks a name as he’s wrapped up in blankets on the chaise in the living room, his evening chamomile tea resting on the coffee table in front of him.  

 _Chanyeol,_ he scribbles. Junmyeon smiles. Wouldn’t it be nice? He’s never had a fling before, never met someone at the beach where the stakes were low but the rewards were high. He’d like to try it once. He’s more of a long-term relationship type, but just once, it would be interesting to have an end-date.

He hasn’t dabbled in self-insert in a very, _very_ long time, but...something beautiful, he thinks. Something joyful. What’s more fun than self-insert?

> _The wind whips through the lifeguard’s wavy black hair which looks warmer, more chocolate in the sun, and Junho wants to tear his gaze away, knows he should look anywhere but at him, but he can’t seem to control himself. The lifeguard is gorgeous, stunning even, all tan skin and white teeth and biceps. Junho looks at the sand for a moment before looking back at the lifeguard again._
> 
> _There’s a gaggle of children at the base of the stand, all jumping around, kicking sand, laughing and asking questions. But the lifeguard just smiles at them, laughs at them. He turns for a moment, and from behind him, he pulls out a massive water gun._
> 
> _The children begin to shout, a raucous, happy sound that pulls at Junho’s stomach: he’s good with kids. He shoots the water gun carefully, aims at their feet, and they dance around on the beach, laughing and laughing and laughing. Junho smiles, can’t help but smile._
> 
> _The lifeguard suddenly, like the flick of a lightswitch, makes eye contact with Junho and waves cheerfully._
> 
> _Junho, flustered, looks down at his towel and thinks about burying his head in the sand. It wouldn’t take too long, he wagers._

Junmyeon taps his pen on his bottom lip. That’s good enough, he thinks. He can tinker and edit and add more when he dreams it up.

 

* * *

 

6.19

Sehun wanders out of his room around ten, making grabby hands for the coffee that Junmyeon nuked in order to get him out of bed.

“What’s your plan for the day?” he asks, bleary-eyed.

“Beach,” Junmyeon says. “You?”

“Beach,” Sehun agrees. “With you.”

“Kay,” Junmyeon says. “Get ready, because I wanna go before it gets too hot.”

“Ugh,” Sehun says, hands still wrapped firmly around his coffee as he wanders back to the room from whence he came. “More coffee, please. Iced.”

“You’ve got ten minutes,” Junmyeon sings.

Sehun’s groans echo in the tiny cottage, and Junmyeon smiles to himself, turning back to the refrigerator to stuff his cooler full of water and wine.

 

☵

 

They trudge through the sand that leads up to the beach access, Sehun hungover and still grumbling. Junmyeon has his journal tucked protectively under his arm. It’s going to be a good day, he thinks, he could tell from the way they sun rose, purple and reds mixing like paint.

They find the beach quite full which makes a lot of sense, considering the time. Junmyeon shields his eyes, looks up and down the beach until he finds a good spot, dragging Sehun behind him.

He sticks his chair in the sand, makes Sehun prop up the umbrella, and finally sets up his spot: cooler? Check. Bluetooth speaker? Check. Journal? Check. He’s ready.

“Aren’t you gonna swim?” Sehun asks, sitting in his chair beside Junmyeon.

“Maybe in a little,” Junmyeon says. “I just got an idea.”

“Christ,” Sehun says. “You’ve been writing like crazy since yesterday. How much have you done?”

“Six thousand so far,” Junmyeon smiles.

“ _Christ,_ ” Sehun says. “Kinda quick for you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

Sehun pats the sides of his chair before he stands up, crouching under the umbrella. He makes a little shushing motion to himself as he sneaks away.

“I’m not a sleeping baby,” Junmyeon says.

“I don’t want to disturb your flow!” Sehun says. “Go forth, create the masterpiece.”

Junmyeon kicks sand at him, chasing Sehun away with a laugh.

He opens the journal and begins to write: he’s developed quite a lot of the characters in the interim, added a little more depth to the introduction Chanyeol scene, given some important backstory…he’s finally _set the scene_. He’s ready for the meet-cute:

> _“Oh!” Junho stumbles as he accidentally collides with something solid, spilling the contents of his bag to the ground. “I-I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”_
> 
> _He drops to his knees and starts to frantically shove the various things back into his bag. Paperbacks and pens and notebooks, sunscreen and chapstick, his sunglasses, his…_
> 
> _“No, I’m sorry,” the voice says, and when Junho looks up, he looks into the eyes of the lifeguard, kneeling before him, hands wrapped around a bottle of water. “I wasn’t looking.”_
> 
> _“Neither was I,” Junho says, barely breathing. “I’m sorry.”_
> 
> _The lifeguard laughs, puts the water bottle back into Junho’s bag._
> 
> _“Stop apologizing,” he says. “It’s not everyday I get to meet someone so cute.”_
> 
> _Red hot heat trills, sings its way through Junho’s body, and he blinks twice. Did he hear that right? Cute? The lifeguard surely didn’t say that, right?_
> 
> _“What?” Junho says._
> 
> _The lifeguard laughs again, grabs a bunch of pens and pencils and shakes them free of sand._
> 
> _“I said it’s not everyday I get to meet someone so cute.”_
> 
> _Junho has to bite back an embarrassed, confused laugh. Someone so cute? Look in the mirror, he wants to say. The lifeguard looks sheepish, ducking down below Junho as he continues to put things back into Junho’s bag, unnecessarily helpful._
> 
> _“You’re the cute one,” Junho mumbles, moving back down to finish this quickly._
> 
> _“What?” the lifeguard says, head snapping up, making direct contact with Junho’s chin._
> 
> _The collision is enough to knock Junho back with a little whine, the pain fracturing through his jaw for a moment, then a moment more._
> 
> _“Ow,” Junho says. “Ow, ow, ow.”_
> 
> _He blinks a couple times, tries to fight back the tears that spring to his eyes._
> 
> _“Holy shit, holy shit,” the lifeguard says. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”_
> 
> _Junho sits down in the sand, feeling a little dizzy, and then, before he knows it, the lifeguard is wrapping him up in his arms, Junho laying back in the embrace._
> 
> _“This is not how I wanted this to go,” the lifeguard says._
> 
> _“W-what?” Junho says, still a bit dazed._
> 
> _“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for days,” the lifeguard says. “First, I knock you over and then I basically uppercut you. As far as I’m concerned, this is a worst case scenario. At least I didn’t accidentally drown you.”_
> 
> _Junho looks up at the lifeguard who stares down at him._
> 
> _“What?” the lifeguard says._
> 
> _“You wanted to talk to me?” Junho says, amazed._
> 
> _“Well, yeah,” the lifeguard says, arms tight around Junho’s body. “Look at you.”_
> 
> _Look at you, Junho wants to say again._
> 
> _“What about me?” the lifeguard replies._
> 
> _Can he suddenly hear my thoughts, Junho wonders._
> 
> _“You’re saying these things aloud, you know,” the lifeguard smiles._
> 
> _No, I’m not, Junho thinks. No way._
> 
> _“You are,” the lifeguard says. “Shit, you’re cute.”_
> 
> _You’re cuter, Junho thinks. You are so captivating, you’re so beautiful, I think I could look at you all day._
> 
> _“Maybe this isn’t going so bad after all,” the lifeguard says. “My name is Chanyeol.”_
> 
> _Chanyeol, Junho thinks. That’s a pretty name._
> 
> _“Come on,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll take you home.”_

He closes the journal, sighs. That’s a good start, he thinks. A good springboard for more. He doesn’t know how fast he wants it to go. It’s been a while since he’s written anything fast-paced and hungry. Junmyeon likes the idea of falling into bed fast, falling in love slow.

He digs his toes around in the sand, shields his eyes from the sun that’s already being filtered through the umbrella. Junmyeon watches as Sehun wades in the waist-deep water, and for a minute, he considers going to join him.

Then, he hears a scream.

His head whips around to look to the source.

A girl stands on the shore, screaming her lungs out as someone runs into the water. Junmyeon looks out into the water, sees someone with little arms waving wildly, head under the surface, as the waves break over top them.

Junmyeon holds his breath as the man swims to the child fast, making quick work of the rescue, getting the child above the water and pulling him to shore all in a matter of a couple tense, hectic minutes. Junmyeon finally exhales when the child is standing on shore, shaking and crying but alive.

And then he gets a good look at the lifeguard.

It’s...it’s like dreaming a painting and then seeing it in front of you when you wake up.

His skin is sun-kissed and golden. His hair is wet and dark, falling forward into his eyes before he brushes it back. His lips are rosey-red, and he licks at them before he flashes the girl, the boy, and their mother a charming, chiclet-white smile. He walks away from the family as they embrace, feet coated in dark sand as he kicks his way back. When he passes by Junmyeon, he gives him a friendly wave and a smile.

Then, the man walks back to the ugly orange lifeguard stand, climbs back up to the top, whistle thrown around his neck.

Junmyeon shivers.

When Sehun finally drags him back to the house, Junmyeon chances a glance at the little chalkboard next to the stand.

 _GUARD ON DUTY,_ it reads: _chanyeol ^^_

 

* * *

 

6.20

There are three options, Junmyeon decides: either he’s made a mistake, it is a great coincidence, or it is magic. He will find out which sooner rather than later.

He writes like mad for several hours, filling up page after page in the book as the sun rises and then sits comfortably above the world.

Chanyeol is kind, funny in the cringey way that makes your whole body shudder with happiness. He is beautiful, and his body was made to be worshiped. Junho and Chanyeol tumble into bed as soon as Junho can convince Chanyeol that he isn’t concussed or morbidly injured. Junho has to kiss Chanyeol quiet, and after that, it’s quite easy to slip under the waves.

They fuck for days, nights. They learn each other, learn the sounds of pleasure that leak from their mouths. Their tongues are entwined the way their bodies are, and Junho can barely see daylight with the way Chanyeol takes up his whole field of vision.

It’s easy to write, Junmyeon finds, now that he has an even more concrete idea of what Chanyeol might look like. It’s easy, of course, because Junmyeon’s stomach fills with wet heat whenever he thinks back to the mistake, the coincidence, the magical boy who can’t possibly be real.

 

☵

 

“Fuck,” Sehun says, walking into the bedroom. “You’re making me look bad.”

“Huh?” Junmyeon answers, barely looking up to confirm. _His hands, his big, perfect hands, skimmed down Junho’s sides, and he fought back a tremble. How could he be on edge so quickly? And with so little stimulation?_

“Are you writing porn?” Sehun asks.

“Yes,” Junmyeon answers. _‘Be good,’ Chanyeol says. ‘And I’ll give you what you want.’_

“Fuck, you look so focused,” Sehun says. “This is gonna be good as fuck.”

“Doubt it,” Junmyeon answers again. _Junho couldn’t control himself. He wanted Chanyeol everywhere, wanted him all over, wanted him until he could barely breathe, wanted Chanyeol in his airways and his bloodstream, on his tongue and on his cock._

“Christ,” Sehun says, looking over Junmyeon’s shoulder. “It’s already like that?”

“Gotta start strong,” Junmyeon murmurs before setting his pen down. “What are you up to?”

“Ignoring work,” Sehun smiles. “The way you should be ignoring work.”

Junmyeon opens his mouth to argue: he’s finally found inspiration. Isn’t that what they came here for?

“Relax a little,” Sehun says. “Come swim with me.”

Junmyeon frowns.

“Come _on_ ,” Sehun needles. “You always just sit on the shore scribbling in your notebook. Come _play_.”

At the very least, Junmyeon thinks, he can see if it was all just a figment of his imagination.

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, setting down his pen. “Give me a minute, I’ll put on my swimsuit.”

 

☵

 

When they pass the lifeguard stand, he is there. And his name is identical. _chanyeol,_ it reads, handwriting messy, a little cartoon sun with sunglasses right next to his name.

“Hi,” Chanyeol says. “Kinda late for you, isn’t it?”

“What?” Junmyeon says.

“Don’t you normally come earlier in the day?” Chanyeol the lifeguard from real life really says.

“Uh,” Junmyeon stumbles. “Yes. Normally.”

“I’ve seen you around,” Chanyeol smiles.

 _I’ve seen you too,_ Junmyeon wants to say, but he can’t quite get the words out.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “I’m around.”

“Well, Around,” Chanyeol says, grinning like a fool, “I guess I’ll see you.”

If Junmyeon was anyone but Junmyeon, maybe he would have said something cute, something coy: _I guess you will._ Instead, he just follows where Sehun has lead, absently walking forward, completely unaware that Junmyeon’s life hangs in the balance.

Chanyeol is real.

Really real.

 

* * *

 

6.21

Junmyeon writes, writes, writes. The words pour out of him like water, like air.

> _It is electricity in smoking, charred air, the way Chanyeol feels wrapped around him, sinking down, down, until Junho feels consumed…_
> 
> _“Stop,” Chanyeol gasps, abdomen trembling with effort, “stop, stop, unless you want me to come.”_
> 
> _“Come for me,” Junho says, “please, come…"_
> 
> _Chanyeol wraps Junho in his arms, comforting and warm like the ocean during calm winds, with calm currents. He wonders what Chanyeol is thinking about. He even thinks about asking him. At the same time, he doesn’t want to interrupt this quiet, pure moment, so he relaxes his body, sighs out into the empty space of the room, and falls asleep, much easier than he can ever remember falling asleep before…_
> 
> _“You’re so pretty,” Chanyeol says. “I really like you…”_
> 
> _If he wanted, he could tell Chanyeol about the things he sees. The seashells at his ears. The swells in his hair. The clouds in his teeth. The sand on his skin, the seaweed and blue skies mixed into his eyes. He won’t tell him these things, though. He can only think them, only think them and know that they’re true. Because Chanyeol is the ocean._
> 
>  

☵

 

When Junmyeon finally goes to the beach, he’s met with sunshine.  

“Hi,” Chanyeol says, smile just as dizzying as the day before. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Junmyeon says shyly.

The beach is empty except for stragglers, exercisers, walkers and their dogs. Junmyeon plods his way over to a spot he deems an appropriate distance from the lifeguard who he still can’t fully believe is real.

The waves come, and they go. Junmyeon breathes in and out, trying to time his inhales and exhales with the coming and the going.

He spends a little too much time there, just watching as the water does what it’s always done. Why is it so calming now? He’s never been much of an outdoors person before, but now it seems as though all his time is spent here, basking in the sunlight, the wind giving him chills up his spine. It’s been about an hour, he thinks. That’s enough re-centering for one evening.

Junmyeon goes to stand, but instead, he ends up toppling to the ground, the awkward flailing of a lifeguard trying to rescue him notwithstanding.  

“Shit,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were gonna...stand so quick.”

His ass is in the sand once more, and he stares up at Chanyeol, who wears the same sheepish face he wore in a dream. A dream he wrote into the journal.

Junmyeon stares at the sand, the contents of his bag strewn across the space between them. He grabs the journal swiftly before shoving it back where it belongs.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says, kneeling down. “I’m an idiot.”

“No,” Junmyeon says, “you’re fine.”

Chanyeol grabs pens and pencils, shakes them free of sand. Junmyeon doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t know _how_ this is happening, but the adrenaline coursing through him wants him to stand, wants him to run. Wants him to do anything but carefully, slowly put his possessions back in his bag.

“I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Chanyeol says.

Junmyeon looks up, stares at Chanyeol with what he’s sure are terrified, excited eyes.

“W-what?” Junmyeon says.

“I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Chanyeol says, still digging some of Junmyeon’s stuff out of the sand. “Ever since I first saw you, I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t think of how.”

 _Jesus Christ,_ Junmyeon thinks. _It’s not beat for beat, but it’s damn close._

“Why?” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol bites his smile down, staring at his hands.

“Why else?” he asks, flicking his eyes up to hold Junmyeon’s gaze. “You’re cute.”

Junmyeon has never fainted, but he feels as if he’s about to.

“Are you serious?” Junmyeon asks.

Chanyeol cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Chanyeol says. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says, steadily filling his bag with sand as he shovels the remaining things back where they belong. “You’re just...you’re _you._ ”

“Here, stop, you’re getting sand all over?” Chanyeol asks, moving down, grabbing Junmyeon’s hands, finishing the job. “What do you mean, I’m me?”

“You’re…,” Junmyeon says, “you’re cute and stuff.”

And Junmyeon sees it like a premonition, like something that’s happened in every timeline that exists. He jerks back just as Chanyeol jerks his head up, only _barely_ making contact with his chin.

“Oh, fuck,” Chanyeol says. “That was close.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, heart in his throat.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says. “I’m kinda clumsy, sometimes.”

“You’re...you’re fine,” Junmyeon says.

Junmyeon watches as Chanyeol picks his sunglasses up and gently dusts them before leaning forward and putting them on Junmyeon’s head.

“There,” Chanyeol says. His face is way too close to Junmyeon’s, the air tense and beautiful. “All better.”

Junmyeon scrambles to his feet, starts walking away as soon as he can manage to tell his legs to _move, move, move_.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Chanyeol calls, and when Junmyeon turns, he wears a tremulous, but still quite pretty, smile.

“Yes,” Junmyeon says breathlessly.

The distance, the volume doesn’t seem to matter, as Chanyeol hand delivers another heart-wrenchingly gorgeous smile and Junmyeon realizes how totally, incomprehensibly fucked he is.

 

* * *

 

6.22

What are the rules to it, he wonders. How much of what he writes comes true? How much of what he’s _already written_ will come true?

He decides to test it.

Adding an asterisk after the meet-cute, before the trip back to Junho’s beach house, he flips forward in the journal again, striking a little asterisk at the top of the clean page.

> _“Ice cream?” Junho asks._
> 
> _“It’s right down the road,” Chanyeol says. “We could walk. My treat.”_
> 
> _Junho rolls his eyes._
> 
> _“What?” Chanyeol smiles._
> 
> _“If you pay,” Junho says, “that means it’s a date.”_
> 
> _Chanyeol leans forward, takes Junho’s hands in his._
> 
> _“What’s so wrong with that?”_

 

☵

 

The drawing scratched with white chalk next to his name changes every day, Junmyeon realizes. Today, it is a bad approximation of Pikachu.

“Hi,” Chanyeol says sunnily. “You came back.”

“I told you I would,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol’s smile somehow widens.

“I like that,” Chanyeol says. “A man of his word.”

Junmyeon bites his lip, tries not to smile.

“I, uh,” Chanyeol stammers, hands tight on the wood of his stand. “I get a break at lunch.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “I was, uh, wondering.”

“Yeah?” Junmyeon asks, leaning forward.

“There’s an ice cream place,” Chanyeol says. “Down the road.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, air leaving his lungs.

“Would you wanna....go with me?” Chanyeol asks quietly, before immediately backpedaling. “N-not like that, if you don’t want! I just figured since, you know, I almost injured you yesterday, I could pay you back.”

“You don’t even know my name,” Junmyeon says.

“No,” Chanyeol says. “But if you told me, I’d remember it.”

 

☵

 

“It pays better than people think,” Chanyeol says, licking at his cotton candy ice-cream cone. It’s easy to get lost watching it, but Junmyeon finds it’s just as easy to get lost listening to Chanyeol talk. “I make a decent amount during the summer. I do construction in the winter.”

“That’s cool,” Junmyeon says, looking at Chanyeol’s arms. A body made to work. It’s a frighteningly hot thought.

“It’s not bad,” Chanyeol says. “I like it for now.”

“What do you want to do after?” Junmyeon asks.

“I dunno,” Chanyeol says. “I haven’t thought much about it, even though everyone tells me to.”

He laughs, and Junmyeon laughs along with him.

“It’s just…,” Chanyeol says, “I kinda like the freedom of it. Steady gig in the summer, contracts for the winter. I can take what I want, leave what I don’t want. And I figure it’ll be a while before I can’t do it anymore.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “You’re still young.”

“Don’t say that like you’re a grandfather or something,” Chanyeol smiles, and then he quickly adds, “wait, are you a grandfather?”

“ _No_ ,” Junmyeon says, digging his spoon into his sundae for another bite. “Do I look that old?”

“No,” Chanyeol says. “But you never know.”

“I guess you’re right,” Junmyeon says.

“What about you, though?” Chanyeol says. “What do you do?”

Junmyeon _hates_ this question.

“I write,” Junmyeon says.

Seeing Chanyeol’s reaction, the stars that light his eyes, Junmyeon decides maybe he doesn’t _hate_ it, per say.

“What do you write?” he asks excitedly.

“Garbage,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol scoffs.

“I doubt it,” he says. “You’re always writing in that notebook of yours. It must be good stuff.”

“Do you watch me a lot?” Junmyeon asks, bold for some reason. Maybe it’s the hot fudge.

Chanyeol closes his lips around the swirling tip of his cone, licks at it exaggeratedly. Junmyeon knows it’s silly, knows it’s _corny_ even, but fuck, it works on him.

“Sometimes,” Chanyeol says. “When I have a minute.”

“Why?” Junmyeon asks.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes.

“Should I make it a bit more obvious?” Chanyeol asks, and before Junmyeon can ask him how, Chanyeol is surging up, one hand still wrapped around his ice cream cone, one hand firm on the back of Junmyeon’s neck, pulling him into the sweetest kiss Junmyeon’s ever known.

It’s hot, only gets hotter, when Chanyeol licks at Junmyeon’s lips, fleeting and much too little, before sitting back down.

“Does that explain it?” he asks, tongue flicking at his ice cream once again.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, fingers light against his lips, brushing against the wetness that Chanyeol left there. “I suppose it does.”

 

* * *

 

6.24

“I thought you were never gonna show,” Chanyeol says.

He jumps down from the stand and grabs his whistle from around his neck, letting out a blood-curdling screech of a whistle before another short, albeit still ear-splitting one.

“Done,” Chanyeol says. “Ready?”

Junmyeon doesn’t know _what_ he’s doing, doesn’t know how he managed to get himself into this mess. What he does know is that he prepared in the shower, much to Sehun’s chagrin.

“Yep,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol smiles down at him and grabs him by the hand before he leads him off to the car.

 

☵

 

“You like wine?” Chanyeol asks.

The house is much bigger, much more polished than Junmyeon would have imagined, but that’s what he gets for stereotyping. It’s still distinctly beachy, but a clean-cut, preppy kind of beachy. He likes it, he realizes, sinking back into the couch. He likes the paintings, the tapestries. He likes the island in the kitchen and the bar where Chanyeol grabs a bottle for them.

“Um,” Junmyeon says. “Yes.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says, standing at the counter, uncorking the bottle easily. “I see you with those little cans all the time.”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says, hiding his face.

“No shame in it,” Chanyeol laughs. “They’re a modern miracle.”

White wine is poured into pretty glasses, stems painted blue and gold. Chanyeol hands one to Junmyeon as he sits next to him, his own glass in hand.

“Should we toast?” Chanyeol asks.

“Hm,” Junmyeon says. “To what?”

“Summer love,” Chanyeol says.

Junmyeon stares at his lap for a moment, wishing the blush in his cheeks would fall.

“Is that what this is?” he asks.

It’s a pause, a long, fraught pause, that catches Junmyeon’s attention, makes him look up.

“If that’s what you want it to be,” Chanyeol says, eyes amber-warm like sunrise.

Junmyeon tips his glass forward, clinks it against Chanyeol’s before raising his glass to his lips. He watches as Chanyeol does the same, his lips as red as a cherry and just as sweet.

 

☵

 

They finish a bottle between them as they talk, and Junmyeon is feeling the exact right amount of tipsy to let go of his inhibitions and say things the way he wishes he always could.

“You work hard,” Chanyeol says, head resting against the back of the couch. “That much is obvious. So why don’t you think that hard work will pay off with something good at the end?”

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says. He tucks his legs up under himself, body leaning into Chanyeol’s space. “I guess I just have a bad case of imposter syndrome.”

Chanyeol cocks an eyebrow.

“Like, I just always think _how have I managed to fool people into thinking I can write about love_ , you know?” he says. “When I’ve never really let myself be that open and intimate with someone else before?”

Chanyeol shifts, turns into Junmyeon’s space.

“Do you have to be in love to write well about it?” Chanyeol asks.

“I think so,” Junmyeon says.

“I disagree,” Chanyeol says.

“Yeah?”

Chanyeol reaches forward. Strokes a hand against Junmyeon’s face, down to the curve of Junmyeon’s neck and scratches lightly. Junmyeon closes his eyes. Lets himself feel it.

“Tell me. What would you write about that?” Chanyeol asks.

Junmyeon smiles. Opens his eyes.

“That I want you to do it again,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol leans in, one great slanted line, before he captures Junmyeon’s lips in a kiss that steals all the words, all the plot-lines and red threads of fate from his head.

It is familiar in a way that it shouldn’t be, Junmyeon realizes, like he’s always known Chanyeol, always had this in the back of his head somewhere. The easy way he takes Junmyeon’s moans and repackages them as his own. The complicated way he holds Junmyeon in contradictions: firmly, gently. The lovely, perfect way he settles his hands on Junmyeon’s hips, like he knows the story, like he knows the script.

Junmyeon moves, straddles Chanyeol on the couch, legs settled on other side of his body.

“We can just do this,” Chanyeol says, kissing a line down Junmyeon’s throat. “Whatever you want.”

Junmyeon closes his eyes and writhes in Chanyeol’s lap, ass pressing down against Chanyeol’s erection. Chanyeol bucks his hips up into it, chasing the friction, and Junmyeon lets himself sink a little bit lower, legs spread just a little wider over Chanyeol.

“Whatever _you_ want,” Junmyeon answers.

“Everything,” Chanyeol says.

“Good,” Junmyeon says. “‘Cause that’s what I want.”

He kisses his way to Junmyeon’s ear, sucks at the lobe and moans as Junmyeon moans, pleasure that reverberates.

Junmyeon takes the hint, and he lets his fingers play with the lobes of Chanyeol’s ears, and his stomach goes all tingly with heat when Chanyeol whimpers.

“You like that?” Junmyeon asks.

Chanyeol whines his assent.

Junmyeon targets it. He dives forward, kissing Chanyeol’s neck, his throat, his jaw, curving around until he can lick playfully at Chanyeol’s ear lobe.

Chanyeol tries to throw his head back, but Junmyeon holds him by the hair, only lets him thrust his hips up at the feeling as Junmyeon tries to take him apart.

“Please,” Chanyeol says. “God, it’s…”

“Good?” Junmyeon asks.

“Y-yes,” Chanyeol hisses through his clenched teeth. “Yes.”

“You like it?” Junmyeon whispers before blowing a soft little breath over the skin he just licked.

“God, _yes,_ ” Chanyeol says. “Please.”

Junmyeon continues, finds he really likes the noises that Chanyeol makes when he’s desperate and needy.

“Please,” Chanyeol says, steadily pumping his hips up and grinding himself against Junmyeon. “Stop, if you don’t, I’m gonna come.”

Light, sound, color. Junmyeon rears back, hears the words imprinted on his skin like a tattoo. He can speak to himself through time.

“You’re really sensitive there,” Junmyeon says, kissing Chanyeol fiercely as he twists his hips, swallowing the noises Chanyeol makes.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol finally says when Junmyeon pulls back.

And then Chanyeol’s hands are on the backs of Junmyeon’s thighs, and he’s being lifted, legs around Chanyeol’s waist, arms around Chanyeol’s neck.

“W-what are you doing?” Junmyeon asks.

“Carrying you to my bed,” Chanyeol says, absently kissing Junmyeon’s neck, “so I can find out where you’re sensitive.”

 

☵

 

Chanyeol licks at Junmyeon’s hip bones until Junmyeon is so hard, so desperate for something, _anything_ , that he thinks he might be able to come completely untouched.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Chanyeol asks, sucking at the skin until Junmyeon is sure that he’ll bruise there.

“ _Anything_ ,” he answers.

When Chanyeol finally slips a finger inside him, it is too gentle to be what Junmyeon wants.

“I’m not gonna break,” Junmyeon says. “Fuck me.”

Chanyeol stays just as careful, just as gentle, and Junmyeon groans, body arching as Chanyeol’s long, slender fingers graze against his prostate ever so softly.

“Please,” Junmyeon says.

“You’re doing a lot of begging,” Chanyeol says, licking at the head of Junmyeon’s cock as he sinks two fingers into Junmyeon’s body.

Junmyeon feels the arch in his body go taut, more rigid as Chanyeol strokes more insistently at the spot that curls his toes.

“Come on,” Junmyeon says. “More.”

“More?” Chanyeol asks.

“More,” Junmyeon says.

But Chanyeol teases, a mischievous grin on his face, until Junmyeon realizes that if he wants something, he’s gonna have to fucking _take it._

Chanyeol’s eyes go wide, beautiful and shocked, as Junmyeon pushes him onto his back and climbs on top.

“W-wait,” Chanyeol says. “I was gonna eat you out.”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says, pressing himself down, skin against skin as Chanyeol’s cock rubs against his ass.

“Condom,” Chanyeol says.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, torturing Chanyeol just a moment longer before Chanyeol reaches across the bed to tear the foil and roll the condom on.

He slicks himself up blindly, and Junmyeon still feels Chanyeol’s fingers there by the time he reaches around and starts to position the head of Chanyeol’s cock at his hole.

“A-ah,” Chanyeol says. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Junmyeon says.

He lowers himself in one long, smooth stroke, and it punches the breath out of both of them, leaves them gasping.

“You’re--you’re bigger than you look,” Junmyeon says.

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Chanyeol says.

Junmyeon lays down on top of Chanyeol, stomach rising and falling against each other’s as they pull themselves back, become accustomed to the feeling of each other.

“I didn’t think we’d end up here,” Chanyeol whispers.

“No?” Junmyeon whispers back.

“I just hoped,” Chanyeol says.

It sounds sweet, sweeter because it’s from Chanyeol, who Junmyeon built from air and dreams.

He kisses the boy he created, the lips that Junmyeon scratched to life. He sucks at Chanyeol’s tongue, thinks of the way he breathes life, life into him. Is it real? He wonders. He doesn’t know. But it’s beautiful.

He leans back, straightens his spine. Raises himself up on his knees until just the head of Chanyeol’s cock is still inside him. He tenses.

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “Please?”

“Please what?” Junmyeon asks.

“Please,” Chanyeol says. “Fuck me.”

Junmyeon sinks down, watches as Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut. He raises himself up again, up on his knees, and waits until Chanyeol begs for his body once more. Then again. And again. And again.

It starts smooth, rolls like the ocean’s waves. Junmyeon focuses, makes an art of it. Up and down, a hover. Up and down. A pause. A tingling, electric pause, before up and down. But when Chanyeol holds him by the ass, spreads him wide, Junmyeon loses the art. Finds the _need_.

The slaps of their skin, the frantic, bouncing pace that Junmyeon sets, is so lewd, so _filthy_ that Junmyeon has to close his eyes, bite his lip.

“You’re so pretty,” Chanyeol whispers, somehow in awe. “You’re so good.”

Junmyeon reaches down, strokes at Chanyeol’s earlobe just to be rewarded by the moan.

It’s addictive, this power, Junmyeon realizes. He’s always been passive in this, taking and taking. He wants to give. He wants to watch the satisfaction bloom on Chanyeol’s face. He wants to hear the sounds of gratification. He wants all of it and more.

So he rolls his hips, fucking himself down on Chanyeol’s cock until his legs fucking tremble, until he can barely hold himself upright, until Chanyeol’s breathing is so shattered that Junmyeon thinks he might be taking the air that Junmyeon feeds him, from the words he writes, from his own mouth.

“I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol whines against Junmyeon’s lips. “I’m gonna come.”

“You’re gonna come in me?” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol whimpers, sweat along his brow. Junmyeon can’t, can’t give him more. Can’t go any faster.

“Please,” Chanyeol says. “More. Faster.”

Junmyeon can’t, can’t give him more. Can’t go any faster. Until he can.

He reaches back, hand supporting himself as the other strokes his cock, dripping at the head.

“Oh, f-fuck,” Chanyeol stutters. “I’m gonna come.”

“Come,” Junmyeon moans. “Come for me.”

It is better than Junmyeon could have ever imagined. Chanyeol’s face twists so beautifully, his body tight and coiled, before all that energy explodes into light, into sound, into color. He is so gorgeous, so perfect, that Junmyeon can’t help but follow him.

His orgasm hits him squarely, numbs him from the neck down for a second before the pleasure fractures out, shakes through him the way water ripples. Spiraling, spiraling out from beneath his skin in circles.

He moans out again, can’t help it. There’s sweat and come all over him. He’s deliciously sated. How could he manage to undersell something so magnificently? He needs to do a few rewrites.

He collapses into Chanyeol’s arms before Chanyeol rolls them over, still sheathed in Junmyeon’s body.

“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says, arms wrapped tight around Junmyeon’s body, Junmyeon’s legs still spread. “Fuck.”

Chanyeol holds him, holds him until it’s too much to bear, before he slips free, pinches the condom off, pads to his bathroom, and comes back with a washcloth.

“Would you rather shower?” he whispers.

“No,” Junmyeon says, just as quiet, so as to not break the moment. “This is good.”

Chanyeol smiles, walks forward. He kneels on the bed, gently spreads Junmyeon’s legs. Junmyeon feels shy for a fast, silly moment, before he lets his legs go wide, Chanyeol settling between them.

The cloth is blessedly warm, and he sighs as Chanyeol works, squirming when the rough material gets him a little too over-stimulated.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chanyeol says. “Almost done.”

“Kay,” Junmyeon says.

It’s a few moments more, Junmyeon sighing and shaking as Chanyeol cleans him up.

“Stop making noises like that,” Chanyeol says. “I’m gonna get hard again.”

“ _No_ ,” Junmyeon says. “I’m tired.”

Chanyeol laughs and pushes off the bed, returning from the bathroom between long blinks.

“You are tired, huh,” Chanyeol says, laying the sheet over Junmyeon.

“Yes,” Junmyeon says.

“Sleep now?” Chanyeol asks, covering him with the comforter too.

“Yes,” Junmyeon agrees.

Chanyeol lays himself beside Junmyeon before hauling him into his arms.

“Mm,” Junmyeon says. “Good.”

“Good,” Chanyeol says.

 

* * *

 

6.25

His phone buzzes on the nightstand incessantly, and eventually, Junmyeon can’t stand it anymore. He lazily searches for it, eyes closed, before bringing it to his face and turning down the brightness.

There are several messages from Sehun.

_guess you got laid_

_good, im glad_

_i hope u used protection_

_text me that u arent dead_

_or not lmao, dumb bitch_

_also please dont be dead otherwise im gonna feel bad abt these texts lol_

Junmyeon smiles, writes back.

_not dead_

“Mm,” Chanyeol stirs. “Who are you texting?”

“My friend,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol hooks his chin over Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“No indication of how bomb the dick was?” Chanyeol frowns.

Rolling his eyes, Junmyeon quickly adds.

_dick was bomb. gonna top him later tho_

Junmyeon hears the smile as he types.

“Top me, huh?” Chanyeol says.

Junmyeon rolls in Chanyeol’s embrace, faces him.

“You’d be a pretty bottom,” Junmyeon says.

He closes the invisible distance between them, kisses Chanyeol sweetly. A sign of what’s to come.

 

☵

 

“I don’t wanna go,” Chanyeol says, hands in Junmyeon’s hair. “I wanna stay here all day. With you.”

“You just wanna fuck me again,” Junmyeon says.

“Or get fucked by you again,” Chanyeol says. “I’m not picky.”

Junmyeon sinks to his knees.

“Shit,” Chanyeol gasps.

“One more,” Junmyeon says. “For the road.”

He takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, licks at the tip until Chanyeol starts to whine, and then sucks the head into his mouth, slowly, slowly swallowing him down.

Chanyeol’s moans echo in the shower stall, and Junmyeon prays he can be quick about it: he doesn’t wanna make Chanyeol late. 

 

* * *

 

June ends not with a whimper, but with multiple, multiple bangs.

Junmyeon sees less and less of the beach, more and more of Chanyeol’s bedroom.

“Don’t get lost on your way,” Sehun mocks.

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says. “He’s taking me.”

“Right, right,” Sehun says.

“Shut _up,_ ” Junmyeon repeats.

“I don’t blame you, of course,” Sehun says. “He’s stunning.”

“Isn’t he?” Junmyeon says, daydreaming about the line of Chanyeol’s shoulders.

“Like this isn’t exactly what I meant about inspiration but...go with it, I guess,” Sehun says. “Maybe he can inspire some kinky shit.”

Junmyeon’s mind wanders again. What could he write? What could they try together?

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Junmyeon says.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Sehun says. “See you there at ten.”

“See you there.”

 

* * *

 

7.2

He closes the door, tries to tiptoe through the house. He fails.

“Busted.”

Junmyeon looks back, sees Sehun sitting on the couch with his hands folded across his lap, looking like an angry single dad.

“You’re home,” Sehun says. “Honestly, didn’t even expect to see you back tonight.”

“I’m trying to stay over less,” Junmyeon says.

“None of my business,” Sehun says, holding up his hands in acquiescence. “After all, I haven’t even, like, formally met him yet.”

“God, it’s not that big of a deal,” Junmyeon says.

“You’re fucking him on the regular,” Sehun says. “Is that not a big enough deal to warrant him knowing my name?”

Junmyeon waffles for long enough that Sehun jumps, goes for it.

“Invite him for the fourth,” Sehun says. “I already bought a shit ton of meat, there’s more than enough for him.”

“Oh, it’s...it’s not like that,” Junmyeon says. “We’re casual.”

“Casual?” Sehun says. “You?”

“I can do casual,” Junmyeon argues.

“Casual sportswear, yes. Casual dating? No,” Sehun says.

“Fuck off,” Junmyeon says. “It’s just fun. No strings stuff.”

“Ah,” Sehun says. “Gotcha.”

“I’m serious!” Junmyeon says. “It’s not serious.”

“I believe you, I believe you,” Sehun says, walking back towards his bedroom, the back of his head a very easy target for Junmyeon to nail with a pillow.

 

* * *

 

7.4

Chanyeol appears at the door with an apple pie in hand. It smells homey, like cinnamon. Junmyeon smiles. Wishes he could keep him.

“I like him,” Sehun says happily.

 _Me too,_ Junmyeon thinks.

“Shut up, set the fucking table,” Junmyeon orders.

“Why so _mean_?” Sehun gripes, grabbing the pie from Chanyeol and welcoming him in.

Chanyeol rounds on Junmyeon, pulls him into a kiss.

“Hey, baby doll,” Chanyeol says. “Missed you.”

Junmyeon wrinkles his nose.

“Missed you too,” he says quietly.

“There you go,” Chanyeol says.

“Burgers should be done soon,” Sehun says. “You like cheese?”

“Love it,” Chanyeol says.

“Bitch,” Sehun whispers.

“What?” Chanyeol asks, eyebrows raised.

“He’s lactose intolerant,” Junmyeon says. “Just ignore him.”

 

☵

 

It is much, much later, the night sitting over them like a black canvas, when Sehun comes to him.

“I thought you said it wasn’t serious,” Sehun says.

“It’s not,” Junmyeon says.

Sehun’s eyebrows raise, and he turns.

“What?” Junmyeon says. And when Sehun doesn’t answer, he repeats himself, this time, a bit louder. “What?”

“He just...looked kinda serious,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon throws his head back and laughs.

“You don’t know him,” Junmyeon says. “He’s never serious.”

“He looked it,” Sehun says, “when he looked at you.”

 

* * *

 

7.6

Junmyeon’s mind goes everywhere it shouldn’t.

> _“And then, what’s off-limits?” Chanyeol asks._
> 
> _Junho looks down at the list. He crosses off a bunch of things, more things than he thought he would have to. Fisting is too much. So is shit._
> 
> _“Ah, now we trade,” Chanyeol says._
> 
> _Junho looks at Chanyeol’s list, it nearly mirrors his own, save for a few interesting circles in the Like To Try category._
> 
> _“Pet play,” Junho says. “And foot worship?”_
> 
> _“No judgement zone,” Chanyeol smiles._
> 
> _“Never,” Junho says. “Wanna start now?”_
> 
>  

☵

 

When Chanyeol licks the arch of Junmyeon’s foot later as he pants, “master, master,” Junmyeon thinks that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Good boy,” Junmyeon praises. “Good boy.”

 

* * *

 

7.9

They start working with a pretty reliable schedule. Junmyeon goes to the beach, watches Chanyeol watch him, and writes until his hands hurt. They eat lunch together, they go back to Chanyeol’s together. They eat dinner, they talk, they play cards, they fuck each other silly, they laugh and cry at different episodes of _Always Sunny._ They hold each other in bed until Junmyeon can barely keep his eyes open.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” Junmyeon says sleepily, thinking about what must happen when he finishes the book.

“It can be,” Chanyeol says. “We’re good together."

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, “we are.”

 

* * *

 

7.10

Junmyeon is unceremoniously shaken awake. He knows what this must be. It’s boat day.

“Come on,” Chanyeol says. “It’s boat day.”

“What the fuck is boat day?” Junmyeon asks, even though he knows. He _made_ boat day.

“Boat day,” Chanyeol says, kissing Junmyeon on the forehead, “is a day where I make another lifeguard take my shift, and I take you out on a boat and we try to look for dolphins and fish and stuff, and maybe I give you a handjob or something, if we get far enough out that no one can see us.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon smiles. “Right, boat day, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Chanyeol says. “Come on, shower time.”

He drags Junmyeon by the hand to the bathroom, strips him of his clothes before depositing him in the shower. Alone.

“What the fuck,” Junmyeon grouses. “Come wash my hair.”

“No,” Chanyeol says. “I gotta make coffee.”

He flits out of the bathroom, and Junmyeon is left to his own devices. He’s left to ponder which is better: a morning rimming or a canteen full of coffee.

 

☵

 

The ocean is clear and blue when they get far enough out. The day is clear, no clouds. Junmyeon wears a baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes, and Chanyeol dutifully reapplies his sunscreen every two hours, even going so far as to set a little reminder on his phone.

“This is nice,” Junmyeon says, laying back in Chanyeol’s arms as they float.

“Told you you’d like it,” Chanyeol says.

“Sometimes I just need a little push,” Junmyeon says.

“Whenever you need it,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll be there.”

Chanyeol leans down, and Junmyeon tilts his head up, answers the silent question. Chanyeol kisses him, whole and good. Junmyeon could drown in it. Already has, weeks ago when he wrote boat day, when he wrote the dolphins that appeared as they embraced so passionately.

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol says, pulling back and pointing. “Fuck, there’s a whole school of them.”

“It’s called a pod,” Junmyeon says.

“Of course, you know that,” Chanyeol says, pecking Junmyeon on the lips.

He leans over the edge of the boat, watching with Chanyeol as the dolphins swim circles around their little boat. It’s magical. Of course it is.

“God,” Chanyeol says, grinning so brightly. “I’m so happy I met you.”

“Me too,” Junmyeon says, and he’s never meant anything more.  


* * *

 

7.11

Sometimes, it’s hard to keep up with writing when the real thing is standing right in front of you, skin shining with sweat, hair dusted with sand, eyes gleaming. He could look at Chanyeol forever, he thinks. He really could. It wouldn’t be such a bad way to die.

“Stop staring,” Chanyeol calls. “Otherwise I’m gonna blow the whistle on you.”

Junmyeon looks back at his journal. Writes a nice little scene where Chanyeol tops the fuck out of him. 

 

* * *

 

7.13

“You said Pinot Noir, right?” Chanyeol voice echoes from the foyer.

“You idiot!” Sehun shouts from the kitchen. “ _Grigio._ ”

Chanyeol pops his head into the kitchen, a bottle of white wine in his hands.

“Just kidding,” Chanyeol grins.

“You know what, I take back what I said,” Sehun says. “I hate him.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Junmyeon says, rounding on Chanyeol. Standing on his tiptoes to kiss him hello. “You love him.”

“I don’t,” Sehun says.

“You don’t like him ‘cause he’s _taller_ ,” Junmyeon says, Chanyeol’s arms around his waist, right where they belong.

“He’s not taller,” Sehun says.

“Better looking then,” Chanyeol says.

“This is _my house._ ”

 

☵

 

Chanyeol is fast asleep in his bed. Junmyeon opens the journal.

> _Junho finds his true feelings in the dead of night, when even the stars sleep._
> 
> _When Chanyeol crashes into his bed, eyelashes spread across the tops of his cheeks, Junho realizes. Junho knows._
> 
>  

* * *

 

7.14

Sometimes, Junmyeon feels the need to remind himself of how silly it all is. How he built this man from the ground up, from soil to sky.

“What’s your sister’s name?” Junmyeon asks.

“Yoora,” Chanyeol says. “Why?”

“And what did you play in high school?” Junmyeon asks.

“Lacrosse and basketball,” Chanyeol says.

“And your favorite position?” Junmyeon asks.

“You know it’s reverse cowgirl,” Chanyeol says.  “Shut up, why are you asking me this stuff?”

Junmyeon gives him a peck on the lips.

“Dunno,” Junmyeon says. “Just wanted to make sure.” 

 

* * *

 

7.16

Chanyeol takes him on dates, some dates that Junmyeon’s written, some that Chanyeol thinks up all on his own.

Junmyeon is through pretending he isn’t attached. He’s attached. He’s very, very attached.

“Wanna see me absolutely wreck your shit?” Chanyeol boasts, his bowling glove just a hair too nerdy for Junmyeon.

“Go ahead, baby,” Junmyeon says. “Show me what you got.”

Junmyeon has to say, it is pretty impressive watching Chanyeol go strike after strike, especially when Junmyeon is so used to having the bumpers up. Eventually, it gets pretty fuckin’ unfun. No wonder he didn’t write a bowling date. They suck.

“I’ll teach you,” Chanyeol says once he senses Junmyeon’s frustration. “You’re all...rigid, like except where you should be.”

He gets into Junmyeon’s space, placing a quick kiss at his neck before he focuses up. Junmyeon isn’t so easily re-centered.

“Keep your arm straight,” Chanyeol says, whispering in his ear. “Aim for the pocket.”

“What the fuck is the pocket?” Junmyeon whispers back.

“Between the one and the three,” Chanyeol says, pointing them out. “Aim right there.”

“Okay,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol lets go of him, and Junmyeon tries to do what Chanyeol told him. Arm straight. Flexible. Between the one and three.

He steps forward. Lines up. Releases. They all go down. Bam. Bam. Bam.

“Fuck yes!” Chanyeol screams.

Chanyeol picks Junmyeon up by the waist and twirls him around in a circle, kissing him sloppily on the cheek. Bowling dates aren’t _so_ bad, Junmyeon thinks.

 

* * *

 

7.20

> _He sinks his teeth into Chanyeol’s flesh, into the meat of his ass, only to be greeted by the familiar yelp of pleasure-pain, the kind that Chanyeol likes best when he’s in this mood._
> 
> _“Kiss me,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”_
> 
> _Junmyeon obliges him, inclined to give him a reward, so he cups his hands around Chanyeol’s ass, spreads him wide. He ghosts a breath of air over where he’s most sensitive, and he looks as his hole puckers, tries to clench around something._
> 
> _“Please,” Chanyeol whi--_

“Whatcha doin’?” Chanyeol asks.

Junmyeon shuts the book.

“Nothing,” Junmyeon says.

“Writing porn,” Chanyeol says knowingly.

“No,” Junmyeon lies.

“One day,” Chanyeol says. “ _One day,_ you’ll have to let me read it.”

 

* * *

 

7.25

Junmyeon keeps the book secret, doesn’t even let Sehun touch it after the very first time. He keeps it close to him, keeps it nearby at all times. Which is why, when it goes missing for a spell, he nearly loses his fucking mind.

“Calm down,” Chanyeol says. “Relax.”

“Don’t,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t tell me to relax. This is my...this is my livelihood, this is my fucking life.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “I know. But yelling and crying won’t help us find it. We just have to relax a little and think back to where you left it.”

Junmyeon thinks and thinks and thinks some more, but can’t remember ever dropping it. He berates Sehun, tears apart his house and Chanyeol’s too, but still can’t find it.

Then, at midnight, he rises from sleep as though God was telling him to. He walks to the ocean. Finds the journal wet on the shore. In a flash, the water is gone. Pages exactly as he left them. He blinks a couple times. Walks home, returns to bed.

 

* * *

 

7.28

When they go see the horses up in Corolla, Junmyeon can’t think of much to say.

“This one,” the tour guide says, “he’s got a wild heart.”

Junmyeon looks, sees the horse kicking in the sand, his harem surrounding him.

“Pretty, huh,” Chanyeol says.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, tears in his eyes. “Beautiful.”

 

* * *

 

7.30

Junmyeon wakes up and knows it’s to be a bad day. He’s written it so.

Chanyeol is in a foul mood, late for his shift.

“Where’s my fucking…Jun, where is my fuckin’ suit?” Chanyeol asks.

“It’s in the laundry,” Junmyeon says. “I threw it in last night.”

Chanyeol huffs, stalks out of the room angrily.

“What the fuck,” Chanyeol says, slamming the lid shut. “Why?”

 _I don’t know,_ Junmyeon thinks. _Sometimes I just need a fight. To keep things interesting. To make the sex hateful for a minute before it turns back to fluff in my hands._

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says. “I just thought you needed it washed so I threw it in with my stuff.”

Chanyeol runs through the room, picking up shit he needs for the day. Junmyeon lays in his bed, watches him run.

“Are you gonna help at all?” Chanyeol says. “Since you made me late?”

“You could set your own alarm, you know,” Junmyeon says, bitchy.

Chanyeol turns on him, but it isn’t the angry, barely restrained lust he wrote. It’s hurt that he wears on his face--clear as day.

“I’ll see you later,” Chanyeol says.

He stalks out of his own home, and Junmyeon sits up, feeling distinctly like he’s read the wrong script.

 

☵

 

Junmyeon can’t handle that. Doesn’t care that it isn’t in the book. He’s not a slave to what he’s written. He can man up and apologize.

He walks to the beach later. The storm rolls in around closing time. Chanyeol whistles everyone in.

“Hey,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol stays facing forward.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says. “I was mean for no reason, I think I just...I just didn’t get enough sleep. It was a bad morning. And I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol finally turns.

“Apology accepted,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll set my own alarm from now on.”

“It’s...stop, I don’t care about that,” Junmyeon says. “I don’t mind.”

“If you didn’t mind, you wouldn’t have said that,” Chanyeol says.

“It was just a bad mood,” Junmyeon says. “I didn’t _mean_ it.”

“You don’t just say stuff you don’t mean, Jun,” Chanyeol says. “That isn’t you.”

“Yes, I do,” Junmyeon says. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I just...I just think, man, like, I _love_ you, and I can’t figure out how to make you see that,” Chanyeol says angrily.

“You love me?” Junmyeon asks, head tilted to the side.

“Of course I love you,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t you know that?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon says. “God, yes.”

Chanyeol tears Junmyeon out of his own head, kisses him senseless on the stormy shore.

When they lay in bed later that night, the sweat cooling on the sheets, Chanyeol sighs. Junmyeon must answer it.

“It started off as the worst day of my life, but it turned into the best day of my life, I think,” Junmyeon says.

“Me too,” Chanyeol says.

And he didn’t even write it that way. That’s what makes it sweeter.

 

* * *

 

8.2

Sehun kicks his feet over one another.

“One more month,” he says.

“Yep,” Junmyeon says.

They both tip back their glasses, drink to the summer.

“What are you gonna do about the boy?” Sehun asks.

“What?” Junmyeon says.

“What are you gonna do about him?” Sehun says. “Are you gonna try long distance or...or are you gonna like, I dunno, break up with him. God, that sounds so fuckin’ harsh.”

Junmyeon hadn’t...hadn’t thought about it in real life. He’d been so focused on the story. On the arc. He hadn’t...hadn’t thought about Chanyeol. About himself.

“Please,” Sehun says. “Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?” Junmyeon says.

“Like you’ve never thought about it before,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon drains the rest of his glass.

“Little piece of advice,” Sehun says. “If you like him, keep him. If you stop liking him, you can get rid of him then.”

It turns over in his head. _Keep him. Keep him._

 

* * *

  

8.5

“Come swim,” Chanyeol says, wiggling his eyebrows stupidly.

“Fucking in the ocean is a terrible idea,” Junmyeon says.

“We don’t have to fuck,” Chanyeol says. “We can just swim, and maybe…”

“And maybe you’ll let me rub against your ass until we come?” Junmyeon says.

“H-how did you know I was gonna say that?” Chanyeol says.

“Dunno,” Junmyeon says, leaning forward to snake his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth for a tempting, tempting moment. “Just a hunch.”

 

* * *

 

8.8

“More,” Junmyeon says. “Faster.”

“I can’t go much faster than this,” Chanyeol laughs, pistoning his hips at a crazy speed.

“Do you want me to go get a dildo?” Junmyeon asks.

“N-no,” Chanyeol says.

“Then fuck me,” Junmyeon says. “Hard.”

 

☵

 

He’s being crazy, he’s being wanton, he’s being a slut, but he can’t help it.

Chanyeol’s sweat drips on him, and he wants to taste.

 

* * *

 

8.9

“Do you mind if we...don’t?” Chanyeol asks.

Junmyeon slithers back, rejected.

“Y-yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Of course, no, it's fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol apologizes. “It’s just...it was kind of a long day, and I got really tired, and there’s something weird going on with my leg, like it’s a cramp, but it doesn’t go away like a normal cramp does? I’m…”

Junmyeon shuts him up the only way he knows how, stealing his breath with a kiss.

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says. “Never apologize.”

“Never?” Chanyeol grins, all cheek.

Junmyeon rubs his legs until he’s sighing, snoring, off to sleep like a child wrapped up in blankets.

 

* * *

  

8.11

Junmyeon can’t separate himself from it. He’s trying to lose himself underneath Chanyeol’s skin, embed himself in the flesh. Chanyeol’s hums against his throat rattle through him, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he finds he’s lost his voice from yelling Chanyeol’s name.

“I...I,” Junmyeon tries.

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

8.15

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Chanyeol asks.

“Positive,” Junmyeon says. “Lay back and look sexy.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, reclining and looking vaguely constipated.

“Is that supposed to be sexy?” Junmyeon prods.

“Listen, you should try being sexy on command,” Chanyeol says. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“I’m just gonna crop your face out,” Junmyeon says.

“Thank god for that,” Chanyeol says.

He artfully frames it so that Chanyeol’s body is all harsh darks and lights, the cuts of his muscles prominent. His hips, God, his hips are sculpted. Something out of a wet dream. Junmyeon snaps several pictures, his hand stroking the skin, playing with Chanyeol’s cock.

“Ah,” Chanyeol says. “Are you gonna…”

“Maybe,” Junmyeon says, pressing record.

“Ah,” Chanyeol says, thrusting up into the circle of Junmyeon’s hand. “Ah, fuck.”

“You’re not allowed,” Junmyeon says. “Not until I say so.”

 

☵

 

“What was that all about?” Chanyeol asks, chest still heaving with effort. “That was like, mind-blowing.”

“I dunno,” Junmyeon says. “Just wanted to try it.”

He wonders what happens. What happens when he finishes. Does Chanyeol disappear? Does he wake up from this wonderful dream? What happens, he wonders.

He wanted memories. And now he’s got plenty.

 

* * *

 

8.19

> _“I don’t want to get into this now,” Junho says._
> 
> _“Get into it,” Chanyeol says. “For me.”_
> 
> _“It’s dumb,” Junho says, tears sitting in his eyes._
> 
> _“It’s not dumb,” Chanyeol says. “You just have to be honest with me for a change.”_
> 
> _That’s not it, Junho wants to say. I’m always honest with you, Junho wants to say. I have to be honest with myself for a change, Junho should say._
> 
> _Junho swallows his spit, and he swallows his pride._
> 
> _“I like you more than a little,” he says. “I like you. I like boat day. I like fucking you, and I like being fucked by you, but I like...I like everything. I like getting ice cream at Scoops. I like watching TV until we fall asleep. I like the way you fold my clothes after I take them off. I like...I like you more than a little.”_
> 
> _Chanyeol beams like the sun over the ocean._
> 
> _“I like you more than a little too,” Chanyeol says. “Why is it a problem?”_
> 
> _“Because,” Junho says. “I wanted to keep this no strings attached summer fun.”_
> 
> _Chanyeol crowds into his space, dominates it, takes it away and only gives Junho back a whine of a breath._
> 
> _“This summer could last forever,” Chanyeol says. “Be with me. Long haul shit. I’m serious. Be with me.”_
> 
> _Junho finds it easy to say yes, yes, yes._
> 
>  

☵

 

Junmyeon isn’t completely obtuse, of course. He knows the way they’re heading. Knows Chanyeol like the lines in his palm now because he sculpted them in, a sharp knife in clay.

 

* * *

 

8.22

The thoughts of the end consume him, and they make it hard to think about anything else besides.

“You’re somewhere else,” Chanyeol says, hand soft against Junmyeon’s skin. “Where are you?”

 _Right here,_ Junmyeon wants to say. _I’m right here, but you aren’t. Because I’ve made you up._

“I’m here,” Junmyeon says, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol smiles.

 

* * *

 

8.23

> _“We can make it work,” he says. “We can.”_
> 
> _“No,” Junho says. “We can’t. This won’t work. We both want it to, but it's never going to work.”_
> 
> _He’s saying things he doesn’t mean. He wants it to work. He knows it could. He loves Chanyeol, and no matter how many miles separates them, he’s confident that nothing could change that. But he can’t bear to see it end on ugly terms._
> 
> _“Don’t do this,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t do this to us. We owe it to each other to at least give it a shot.”_

Junmyeon sets his pen down. Rubs at his temple.

 

* * *

 

8.25

Chanyeol calls him.

“Honey,” he says. “Baby doll.”

“What do you want,” Junmyeon groans.

“Come _over,_ ” Chanyeol whines. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says. “It’s been, like, two days.”

“I’m used to you,” Chanyeol says. “I’m used to getting my fix.”

Junmyeon would roll his eyes if it had any effect.

“Please?” Chanyeol asks. “I’ll come get you.”

It’s completely dark out. He shouldn’t. He should start...he should start stopping this. Before it gets too hard. Before he can’t convince himself to do it at all.

“Okay,” Junmyeon says softly.

 

☵

 

When they make love, it is tender and quiet, the blankets thrown over them, the world hushed as they take each other apart and put each other back together again.

“I’m scared,” Junmyeon says, wrapped in Chanyeol’s arms, “that once I go home, I lose you.”

“You can’t lose me,” Chanyeol smiles. “I’m here for you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Junmyeon says.

“Tell me what you mean, then,” Chanyeol says.

He holds Junmyeon’s hands in his.

“It’s silly,” Junmyeon says.

“Nothing you think is silly,” Chanyeol says. “It’s all special. It’s all important.”

He has to finish it. He has to know.

 

* * *

 

8.27

 _come over?,_ Chanyeol texts him.

It’s now or never, Junmyeon reasons.

He rides his bike the quick half-mile to Chanyeol’s, the dread sitting in his stomach threatening to make him sick over the concrete sidewalk.

When he walks into Chanyeol’s place, he smiles sadly.

“Hi, baby,” Chanyeol says, gathering Junmyeon into a hug.

“Hi,” Junmyeon says into the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Sure,” Junmyeon says, even though he’s positive he couldn't possibly eat right now.

Junmyeon sits at the counter, watches as Chanyeol boils ramen for them. The steam rises from the broth as they wait for it to cool, and Junmyeon twists his fingers in his lap.

“I feel like I should tell you something,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol pushes the bowls away from them, looks especially sullen.

“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “Go ahead.”

Junmyeon steels himself. He should be breaking up with him. He should be tempering this, just in case. What if something goes wrong? What happens if Chanyeol finds out? Junmyeon wishes he had a rule book, wishes he knew.

“I...I’m not going to see you for a few days,” Junmyeon says. “I’m going to finish my book.”

“W-what?” Chanyeol asks.

“I’m going to finish my book,” Junmyeon says again.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol says.

He lowers his head into his hands, rubs his forehead.

“What?” Junmyeon asks.

“I just...I thought you were gonna break up with me, for some reason,” Chanyeol says. “I had this, like, bad feeling when you were coming here. Like it was..the end or something.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “No, I...I don’t want to break up with you. I like you.”

“Good, I like you too,” Chanyeol says, sounding altogether quite relieved.

Junmyeon wishes he could say the same.

 

* * *

 

9.1  

> _“I love you,” Junho says, water dripping from his lips. “I don’t care if...if we don’t make it. If it doesn’t last. I think we should try.”_
> 
> _“Do you mean it?” Chanyeol asks, wandering ever closer._
> 
> _“I’ve never meant anything more,” Junho says._
> 
> _“Say it again,” Chanyeol says._
> 
> _“I mean it,” Junho says._
> 
> _“No,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head and smiling. “Not that. The other thing.”_
> 
> _“Oh,” Junho says, staring down at their feet. “I...I love you.”_
> 
> _“One more time,” Chanyeol says._
> 
> _“I love you,” Junho says, and it’s like stepping in warm sand. He sinks, he sinks._
> 
> _“I love you,” Chanyeol says. Their hands tangle together. “One more time.”_
> 
> _“I love you,” Junho says, just manages to grit out before Chanyeol crushes their lips together, passion from start to finish._

 

☵

 

It takes him three days. Three whole days to piece together the end.

Junho gets the happy ending he deserves.

When Junmyeon finally closes the journal, heat pours through him, warmth soaking him through, filling up his lungs like salt water. He nearly chokes on it, the immensity of the feeling that sits in his guts and in his heart. What is it? What could it possibly mean? Did he do the wrong thing? Should he have left the work unfinished? Should he have said something different? Should he have _written_ something else?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

Writing Chanyeol, meeting Chanyeol: Junmyeon finally knows what it’s like. It’s like standing on the shore of the ocean, feet in dry sand. When the ocean laps at you, laps at the sand, before you know it, you start to sink. Eventually, you sink so far that it scares you. Automatically, without a second thought, you shake yourself out of the sand, find new solid ground to stand on.

But Junmyeon doesn’t want new solid ground. He doesn’t want the process to start all over again. He wants this. He wants to sink into it like sinking into the sand, the water asking you a favor: let go, it wants to say. Let go and give of yourself.

Junmyeon decides he will. No matter what.

 

* * *

 

9.2

He walks to the beach that morning, journal in hand.

When he sees Chanyeol on the lifeguard stand, just as happy and healthy and _normal and real_ as ever, he nearly pees himself.

He climbs to the top, taking as many ladder rungs as he can at a time, before he throws himself over Chanyeol’s lap messily, kissing the daylights out of him.

“What the fuck?” he says. “Not that I’m not greatly enjoying this, but what the fuck?”

“You’re here,” Junmyeon says. “You didn’t go away.”

“Uh, of course not,” Chanyeol says. “Where would I go?”

“I dunno,” Junmyeon says. “I just...I don’t know. And you still...you still like me?”

“Like you?” Chanyeol says, wrinkling his nose. “I love you, idiot.”

Junmyeon takes the opportunities that are given to him: he surges forward and kisses Chanyeol like his life depends on it.

Later, much later, when the night has set, Chanyeol sound asleep in his bed, Junmyeon takes the journal for a walk. He goes to the edge of the shore, presses it down into the sand and watches as the pages go from weathered yellow to crisp clean white before they sink, down, down.

He gives it back to the sea.

Write something beautiful, the ocean had said.

He had.

In fact, he wrote something better than beautiful. He wrote Chanyeol.

**Author's Note:**

> just got back from a very nice outer banks vacation that helped to inspire this work, so thank u outer banks, or alternatively, curse u outer banks, i cant tell if this is good or not bc i just wrote for like 10 hours straight. 
> 
> largely unedited, so if u find a mistake, i apologize for that. my b. 
> 
> if u like this, i have more Weird Things written for u to explore. i complain regularly on twitter dot com @wolfsupremacist. my curious cat is linked there so u can ask me questions. hope u enjoyed this mess. ok i love you bye!


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